


Shattered

by tomlinsonxstyles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BoyxBoy, Broken, Death, F/M, Fate, Gen, Healing, Love, M/M, Peter Is A Werewolf But Not Really, Shattered - Freeform, losing a loved one, new relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8334031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomlinsonxstyles/pseuds/tomlinsonxstyles
Summary: "Derek's dead,"Two words, shattering Stiles entire world.--"A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved,""A life with love is a life that's been lived,"  Disclaimer: I'm not really feeling the title or summary so I might change it up in the future x





	1. Chapter I.

**Author's Note:**

> My first Steter story ! I have other works I'm working on(shoutout to my fellow Robron fans if you ship them) but I decided to write yet a new story. Oops. I had this idea in mind for awhile and a chapters in my drafts so I decided why the hell not post it. 
> 
> Hope you will enjoy reading this story as much as I'll enjoy writing it !
> 
> All the love, Emmy x

**I.**

 

It took four weeks, four long, excruciating weeks for Stiles to finally get out of bed. He didn't want to, but John had insisted that he get up because laying around wasn't going to make him feel any better, it would only make him feel worse.

Stiles didn't fight with him, he didn't have the energy to. It took a few minutes, but Stiles reluctantly got out of bed. He walked into the bathroom, flinching at his appearance. His eyes were bloodshot red, dark bags clearly visible under his eyes, his skin was sickening pale. Overall he looked like he hadn't slept or ate in weeks, which was true. Every time he closed his eyes, memory of that night, memories of him, flashed through his mind. He couldn't eat, his stomach would twist and the feeling of being nauseous would hit him.

The teen splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth. He walked out the bathroom, throwing on a random shirt, jeans, and a sweater that was three sizes too big for him. He grabbed his phone, seeing numerous of unanswered texts and calls, not bothering to reply to them now as he headed downstairs.

"Good morning, you want something to eat?" John's voice rang out in the quiet house. Stiles shook his head, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter.

"Kid, you need to eat something," his dad's voice laced with concern. He didn't want to push Stiles, knowing how he was feeling in this very moment. Stiles needed time to heal and his dad understood that. But his father cared too much for his son to not at least try to get him back to his normal life, well normal as it can be given the circumstances.

Stiles didn't reply back, he simply shrugged and walked out the door. He got into his Jeep, starting it up. The teen began backing out of the driveway, that being when he saw the badly torn paper on his passenger seat. He abruptly stopped the car, freezing, his eyes lingering on the photo for a few seconds. It was one of their very first pictures together when they first got together. He bit his lip, desperately trying to stop the tears from falling. He grabbed the picture, shoving it into his glove compartment, it no longer being in sight. The teen took a deep breath, his hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel, until finally he started moving again. 

The somber teen pulled up into a parking spot in the way back of the lot, shutting the engine off. He took a few deep breaths, trying to get his heart rate back to a steady beat. He heard the school bell ringing in the distance, him thankful he wouldn't have to deal with his peers. He waited a few more minutes before finally getting out the car. Stiles gripped his backpack in one hand- his phone in the other, walking across the parking lot and into the school. The halls were deserted, him being relieved for that.

Stiles walked down the corridor to his first class, English- a class he shared with his best friend Scott who he hadn't talk to since everything happened. He didn't want to speak to him or anyone for that matter. He couldn't. Everything, everyone reminded him of Derek. No matter where he went, each turn, somehow something made him think of Derek. If it be a simple street name or a person, Derek managed to creep into his mind.

Stiles reached his classroom door, closing his eyes for a second before pushing the door open. He heard the teacher- Mrs. Santini, stop talking and felt the intense gazes of his classmates on him.

"Stiles," Mrs. Santini gasped, "welcome back. Just take a seat in the back and I'll get you caught up once I'm done here," Stiles nodded at that, holding a blank expression as he headed to the back. He felt Scott's eyes on him, watching his every move, but he couldn't look back. He avoided Scott who tried to talk to him and sat down, looking out the window.

Mrs. Santini walked towards the back twenty minutes later, explaining to him what he has missed and informing that if he needed help she was available during lunch and after school. Stiles didn't really pay attention to her, he kept his gaze tight on the window, mainly the sky.

The sky was painted a dark grey, bringing a rush of sadness and exhaustion to Stiles. Dark rain clouds covered the sky, ready to release and start thundering. Stiles' leg shook uncontrollably under his desk, no one seeming to notice. The anxious teen squirmed in his seat, trying to get rid of the thoughts of Derek that were beginning to cloud his mind.

"I can't do this," Stiles muttered, running a hand through his hair. His voice was harsh and scratchy, due to this being his first time speaking in weeks. Not many people knew about the death that occurred four weeks ago aside from Stiles and everyone that was close to Derek.

"What was that Stiles?" Mrs. Santini asked from the front. Stiles looked up, his hazel eyes glistening with tears. He suddenly got up, collecting his stuff.

"I can't do this, it was too soon," Stiles said a bit louder, making his way out of the class, his breathing becoming dangerously uneven. Scott got up, running after his best friend who, although won't admit it, desperately needs him right now. The two of them might not be on the best terms right now, but Scott knows what Stiles is going through is hell and he wouldn't wish that heart shattering feeling on his worst enemy.

"Stiles!" Scott shouted after him, hot on his trail. Stiles didn't stop, he ran out the school building and to his car.

"Stiles!" Scott's voice was closer. Scott leaned forward, grabbing Stiles by shoulder and pulling him back. Stiles let out a terrified scream, thrashing to get Scott's grip off of him.

"Please just let me go!" Stiles yelled out, his voice breaking.

"I can't," Scott whispered, pulling his best friend into a hug, "I can't. I got you, Stiles," the broken teen hid his face in the crook of his best friend's neck, sobbing.

"I miss him. I miss him so much," Stiles continued sobbing, relaxing into Scott's hug.

"I know buddy. I know," Scott said, rubbing his best friend's back. The two continued standing there for a few minutes before something snapped in Stiles. He suddenly pushed out of the hug. His mood suddenly changed, still crying but a new found anger surfaced in his body.

"Just stay away from, I don't need you. You left me. You don't get to care about me anymore. You don't need me anymore. I'm not apart of you guys anymore," Stiles spat, not sure what was happening to him. The words leaving his lips weren't true. Aside from not being in the pack anymore. Scott and Stiles' friendship was already on thin ice before the accident. Stiles was only still apart of the pack because of Derek. Now that he was gone, Stiles didn't see much of a reason to stay. He couldn't anyways, the pack being a constant reminder of Derek.

He needed his best friend, he needed his dad, he needed everyone.

But he couldn't admit that.

Stiles didn't bother for Scott's reply, he scrambled into his car, turning it on. He pressed onto the accelerator, the car jerking forward, almost hitting Scott in the process. He raced out the school parking lot, not really sure where he was headed. He continued driving until he found a vacant parking lot. He pulled up into one of the spots just as the rain started coming down. The tears streamed down his face, him letting out quiet screams.

He wanted Derek back.

He needed him.

Stiles was slowly losing himself in the mist of his depression, he didn't fight it, he just let it simply happen.

Stiles is broken and no one can fix him, there's getting over what happened. He didn't understand how others could easily get over it and move on.

Stiles tried finding a way to deal with it, the best he could hope for was that he would find a way soon.


	2. Chapter II.

**II.**

Stiles didn't return to school the following day or home for that matter. He ended up falling asleep in his car that was still parked in the vacant parking lot. He couldn't face his dad or anyone for that matter at the moment. He spent the last four weeks at home and he needed a break from it, knowing school would not give him much of a break either. Stiles was exhausted and couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take the looks from his dad, from Scott. He couldn't take them asking if he was okay, of course he wasn't. Stiles needed some form of release, something to get his mind off of everything. 

That's how he ended up at a random local gay club just an hour away from his house. He walked into the club, it not being that packed seeing it was only nearing three p.m. Stiles walked over to the bar, not paying attention to those already in the club. He flashed his fake ID to the barmen and ordered himself five shots of vodka. He drowned each of them, his mind focused on the burning sensation as he swallowed each shot. He kept fighting to keep the thoughts of Derek out of his mind, keeping his attention focused on the drinks in front of him. He knew this wasn't the best way to grieve, but it was the only way he could think of that didn't result in him talking to anyone. But of course, something always reminded him of that green-eyed man he fell so desperately in love with. 

The fake ID in his hand being the trigger this time. He hissed at it, wishing he could cut it up, burn it, and destroy it, but it was the only thing that brought a bit of happiness to him. Derek was with him when he got the ID, well he was the only who insisted Stiles should get one so that way they could get into clubs. Derek didn't need one considering he was twenty-two at the time. The first time he used his ID was on a Saturday, Derek demanding they go out and have a bit of fun. Stiles was scared shitless, he wanted to back out and just go home, knowing it was a bad idea. But Derek comforted him, squeezing his hand reassuringly and pressing soft kisses to his temple, letting him silently know that he was alright. 

Stiles, in that moment, could briefly feel Derek's hand in his', the older man's lips pressed against his head. He shook away the thought, ordering himself two more shots. He didn't want to think about Derek. He pushed all thoughts of Derek out of his mind as he headed to the dance floor. On his way there, someone grabbed onto him, pulling the teen close to him. For a moment, Stiles panicked, but relaxed, he didn't care what happened to him. If this was a way to forget about the older man than so be it.

"Hey there sexy," a deep voice purred into Stiles' ear. It took everything in Stiles not to cringe. The guy reeked of alcohol, then again everyone- including Stiles did. The man's voice was harsh, and unsettling, nothing compared to Derek's soft and comforting voice he was accustomed to hearing. Stiles flinched at that thought, hating the way Derek always crept into his mind. 

The man leaned down, biting on Stiles' neck as they swayed to the random music that was playing. Stiles cringed tried not to cringe again, the kisses sloppy on his neck. The man continued kissing on Stiles', his hands now roaming the teen's body. Stiles didn't protest or make any effort to push the man off him, he simply didn't have the energy to. No matter what it was, Stiles needed a distraction. Something to get his mind off the pain he felt from losing the one person who mattered the most to him. 

"Stiles?" a familiar voice spoke. Stiles didn't reply. He heard the voice, knew who it belonged to, but he couldn't talk to him, especially him. Stiles saw him in the corner of his eye. He wore a simple black Henley shirt with gray skinny jeans. His blue eyes glowing, jaw locked as he stared at the two in front of him.

It was Peter.

"Stiles," the familiar voice of Peter Hale spoke again, making another effort to talk to the teen. Stiles stayed mute, the man on him not seeming to notice the other figure next to them. Stiles suddenly felt himself being pulled away from the man, he fought. He trashed at the sudden grip on him, wanting them to get off him. The man who was kissing on Stiles simply shrugged and walked away, not caring for the teen as much. 

"Let me go!" Stiles screamed as he felt himself being pulled out of the club and into the outside. The sun was still shining bright at four-thirty p.m. Stiles still fought to get Peter's grip off of him.

"I can't do that," Peter voice being much more calming and softer. Stiles stopped fighting, he fell to his knees, sobbing. Peter fell with him, tightening his grip on the younger boy. Stiles leaned back against Peter's chest, sobs escaping his lips. 

"I can't do this, I need him," Stiles sobbed, gripping at his shirt, suddenly feeling like he couldn't breathe again. Stiles sobbed in Peter's arms, letting every emotion he felt take over. Anger, frustration, depression, and grief. The teen continued sobbing as Peter lifted him up bridal style, putting him in the passenger seat of his silk black Mercedes. Peter knew where Stiles lived, but in the state the teen was in, it was best if Peter took him back to his apartment. Stiles had curled up in the passenger seat, crying his heart out like the day Derek died. Peter didn't say anything, he knew there wasn't anything he could say. He just drove in silence, letting the broken boy sob. 

Peter pulled up in front of his apartment building, shutting the engine off before getting out of the car and walking to the passenger side. He pulled the door open, carrying Stiles out and shutting the door with his foot. He carried the teen up to his apartment, little sniffles escaping Stiles' lips as he tried to calm himself down. Peter, with a lot of struggle, opened his apartment door and walked in, tossing his keys onto the coffee table. He carefully set Stiles on the sofa who immediately curled up, allowing himself to fall asleep. The older man thew a blanket over him before walking into the kitchen to get started on dinner. Stiles looked sickening pale and Peter knew he hadn't ate in weeks. In a way, considering all that has happened, it was normal. 

Peter didn't know why he was helping Stiles. The two were never on the same page, they only stayed civil because of Derek. But Derek was no longer here to make sure they kept civil. Peter disliked the loud teen and Stiles disliked the creepy wolf, end of story. Stiles was grieving the loss of a boyfriend and Peter was grieving the loss of a nephew, in a way the two needed each other more than they thought. It seemed they were the only two who understood what each other felt. 

The older man was in the club as well to get his mind off his nephew. As much as he didn't want to admit it or show it, Peter was deeply upset about his nephew dying. He always thought he'd be the first to go. Derek was the only one in his family who didn't hate him or wish he was dead. They did have their ups and downs but in the end they always had each other. 

Peter was finishing up his first beer when his eyes landed on Stiles- his body pressed against another man's, the stranger's lips on Stiles' neck. He sensed that the teen was uncomfortable in the situation but the older man frowned when he saw Stiles making no effort to get out of the situation. The day Derek died, Peter promised himself he would look out for Stiles, knowing how much the annoying teen meant to his nephew. Involuntarily, he got up and walked over to the two, rescuing Stiles from the creepy older guy. 

Peter looked over at Stiles who slept on the couch, the blanket now only covering half his body. He saw Stiles gripping the side of the couch, a pained expression on his face, him squirming where he laid. Peter set the knife that was in his hand down, walking over to where the teen slept. He sat down on the coffee table, leaning forward and holding Stiles' hand in his. He ran his thumb over the back of Stiles' hand, using his other hand to run his fingers through the teen's hair, it being his effort to calm him down. The teen seemed to start relaxing at the gesture, Peter smiling slightly. Soon enough, Stiles relaxed all together, his death grip on the sofa loosened and his face softened. 

Peter sat there for a moment, admiring the sleeping boy on his couch. He knew how much his nephew meant to Stiles, wishing he could somehow take the pain away. Stiles didn't deserve this, everyone knew that. 

"It's going to be okay," Peter whispered, getting up from the table, knowing Stiles didn't hear him. But that didn't matter. Peter made it his mission to make everything better for the teen, keeping and honoring the promise he made to Derek. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween everyone ! I hope you have/had a safe and fun Halloween x
> 
> Thank you for the Kudos and I hope you enjoyed this chapter !
> 
> All the love, Emmy x


	3. Chapter III.

**III.**

Stiles woke up a few hours later, his mind foggy and vision a bit blurred. A dull throb erupted in the back of his head causing him to hiss and groan. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples in hopes it would make the pain decrease. He reopened his eyes, realizing he wasn't at home or car as took in his surroundings. The place was familiar to him, him being here multiple times and breaking in a few times on rare occasions. 

"Glad to see you're finally awake," Peter emerged from the kitchen, handing Stiles a cup of water and pain reliever. Stiles silently thanked him, popping the two pills into his mouth and drowning them with water. 

"How long was I asleep?" Stiles asked, leaning back against the couch.

"About four hours," Peter replied, walking back into the kitchen. Stiles looked over to the window and saw it was completely dark outside. He grabbed his phone off the coffee table, assuming Peter put it there. The teen pressed the home button, the screen lighting up with missed calls and unanswered texts from his dad and friends. Stiles ignored them, getting up and walking into the kitchen. Instantly, the smell of lasagna hit him, his stomach grumbling loud. 

"I guess that answers the question I was going to ask," Peter chuckled a bit, setting two plates of food on the table. 

"Sit and eat," Peter said, taking a seat at the table, Stiles copying his movements. Stiles took a bite, the taste bringing a small smile to his face but caused his stomach to twist. Stiles pushed the plate away, the food and aroma now making him feel nauseous. 

"You okay?" the older man asked, seeing Stiles turn a bit green. Stiles shook his head, he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. 

"When was the last time you ate?" Peter asked, grabbing a cup of water for the teen. 

"I can't remember," Stiles muttered, grabbing the cup that was being handed to him and taking a few small sips. 

"That explains why you can't eat. Your body is use to not having any nutrients or food in it. Plus, I'm guessing the alcohol made the situation worse. Just try to take a few more bites," Peter pushed him, taking another bite of his food. 

"Since when have you cared?" Stiles spat, narrowing his eyes at the older man. It felt as if something snapped in him, causing his mood to completely change. 

"You're right, I haven't. But you need someone right now whether you like it or not," Peter huffed, rolling his eyes at the teen.

"I'm fine, thanks," Stiles huffed, getting up, shoving his chair back in the process. He walked out of the kitchen, a blank expression on his face. 

"Stiles, wait," Peter called out after him, getting up from his seat and chasing behind the teen.

"I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help. I'm not a basket case. I am not your problem. I will be fine. I'm surviving aren't I? Have been for the past few weeks without anyone. So just leave me alone," Stiles spat, fighting back the tears that surfaced, not wanting to look weak in front of Peter. 

"I know you don't. You're not a basket case or my problem. But I know you're not going home," Stiles stayed silent at the comment. The silence from the teen confirming that Peter is right. 

"Just stay here," Peter pushed, trying to get the teen to agree but Stiles is stubborn, always has been. It was something Derek found incredibly annoying but at the same time adorable, the way he would pout when things didn't go the way he wanted them to.

"I'm fine, thanks. I have somewhere I can stay," Stiles lied. He was most likely going to spend another night in his car, in the vacant parking lot that was becoming more of his home than his actual one. 

"Now I know that's a lie because you're not on good terms with any of your friends and I know you're not going to go home," Peter pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the kitchen door frame. 

"You sure know a lot for someone who hates me," Stiles sneered, copying Peter's movements. 

"I've known you for years, Stiles. And I don't hate you. Do I find you annoying? Yes, of course. But I don't hate you," Peter explained, slightly rolling his eyes.

"Gee thanks," Stiles sarcastically said, "that makes me feel so much better," 

Peter sighed out, pushing off the kitchen door frame, walking towards the teen.

"Look, just stay here for a few nights. I won't tell anyone where you are. I'll stay out of your way and if you want to talk, I'm here for you," Peter suggested. Stiles stared at him for a moment, narrowing his eyes at the older man. He couldn't tell if Peter is messing with him or not. But either way he didn't care, he sighed out, wiping his hands over his face.

"Fine," Stiles reluctantly agreed, knowing Peter was right. He despised him a bit for that- always being right.

"But only if I sleep in your room. The damn couch is uncomfortable. And you stay out of my way," Stiles huffed, crossing his arms over his chest again.

"You're such a diva," Peter replied, rolling his eyes- something he seems to be doing a lot lately, "but fine. Since you're the guest, you can have the bed. And I already said I would,"

"Great," that was the end of that conversation. Stiles headed upstairs while Peter retreated back into the kitchen to get started on cleaning up the mess that was leftover from dinner. 

Once the dishes were clean and the kitchen was spotless, Peter headed upstairs to grab some clothes to sleep in, his jeans becoming more and more irritating by the minute. He walked into this room, only to see Stiles laying flat on his back, his arms tucked underneath his head, and his eyes locked on the ceiling. Peter stared at him for a moment, admiring him. The teen looked calm and peaceful as if his mind had shut off and nothing was bothering him. Although Peter knew that wasn't the case, if he took a closer look he could see the unguarded expressions on Stiles' face mixed with grief and anger. He tried his best to hide it, but his emotions were strong, and not to mention Stiles isn't that good of a liar or at keeping things to himself.

"Um," Peter cleared his throat, making his presence in the room known. Stiles' eyes flickered to the older man then back up to the ceiling, a way of letting Peter know he heard him.

"I'm just going to get some clothes," Peter said, heading over to the closet and pulled out a random shirt and a pair of shorts. He looked back at the teen, seeing him still in his jeans and shirt.

"Do you want something to wear? I have an extra pair of sweatpants. They're a size smaller so I think you can fit them. You can borrow a shirt from me or keep the one you have on," Peter asked, pulling out the spare set of pajamas. They weren't his. The clothes belonged to Derek, him leaving a set of night clothes to change into for the nights he stayed over. Peter kept that fact from Stiles, not wanting to trigger the teen. Stiles slowly got out of bed, grabbing the items from Peter's hands.

"Thanks," he muttered, disappearing into the bathroom to get changed. Minutes later he came out, the sweatpants hanging loose on him, and the shirt was swallowing him. Peter nodded at him, before walking out of the room to leave Stiles alone like he promised. He got washed up and changed out of his day attire, grabbing a few blankets and pillows from the hall before making his way to the couch to get some sleep. 

Peter kept drifting in and out of consciousness. Stiles was right, the couch is uncomfortable. Peter tossed and turned for most of the night, getting a bit irritated when he couldn't fall asleep. He tried listening to a bit of music to get his mind off the uncomfortableness- but that failed. He also tried walking, well running around the house to tire himself out- but that also failed. A few hours after trying to get some sleep, he finally felt himself drifting out of consciousness and into a deep sleep.

That's when he heard the terrified screams of the teenage boy who borrowed his room for the next couple of nights.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I'm a little uncertain about it but I'm really exhausted and sleep deprived so I might come back and edit this chapter a bit. But for now it's staying how it is. I honestly don't know where this book is going but I'm going with the flow and we all are going to see what it turns into. I'm sorry if there's a few errors and stuff like that. 
> 
> Thank you for the Kudos ! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter !
> 
> All the love, Emmy x


	4. Chapter IV.

**IV.**

 

Peter dashed upstairs, shoving the door open, and almost breaking it off its' hinges in the process. Stiles laid screaming on the bed, his hands gripped tightly on the silk bed sheets. Peter ran to his side, pulling the younger boy into his arms. That only caused Stiles to scream more, he thrashed in Peter's arms, screams leaving his lips.

"Derek!" he screamed, his voice harsh and broken. Peter's arms tightened around the teen, much like before at the club. 

"Hey, hey. I got you," Peter whispered comfortingly in his ear. Stiles screamed again, his screams beginning to turn into sobs. Stiles gripped the arm that was wrapped around his torso, holding on as if his life depended on it. 

"It's okay," Peter whispered again, without thinking he pressed a light kiss on top of the teen's head. Stiles froze at the gesture, it was comforting and relaxing. A wave of panic overtook his body, his mind drifting to a thought he never wanted to think. He's slowly forgetting Derek's movements, voice, the way his body felt pressed up against his, and the way his lips felt locked with his. Little by little, the things he held onto were growing foggy. 

Stiles pushed out of Peter's arms, backing up into the corner. His back hit the wall, sliding down, and pressed his knees against his chest. He ran his hands viciously through his hair, tears sitting on his red-rimmed eyes, waiting to spill. 

"Stay away from me," Stiles whispered, his voice sounding distant.

"Stiles," Peter cautiously said. Once he processed what just happened, he slowly stood up, and walked over to the fragile teen who sat in the corner. He bent down to eye level, his hands remaining to his sides, not wanting to upset the teen more than he already has. 

"I said stay away from me!" Stiles barked, the tears finally falling. The emotions grief and anger were mixed again but this time a hint of sadness laid underneath it all. 

"What... What happened?" Peter slowly said, lifting a hand and carefully placing it on Stiles' knee. Stiles flinched, his body trembling. The teen kept quiet, the only thing that could be heard were the shaky breaths leaving the boy's slightly parted lips. Peter stared at him, trying to figure out what happened. Why was Stiles suddenly pushing Peter away? Well, he didn't technically let him in but there laid a small amount of trust between them considering Stiles is crashing at his place. Peter went through the events in his mind, trying to figure out what caused Stiles to push him like he did. A few moments later, Stiles finally spoke up. His voice was soft and strained, anyone could tell how truly broken the teen is just by listening to his voice. His voice was shaky, it almost seeming like he is holding back the sobs that tried escaping his lips. 

"I'm forgetting him,"  
  
Stiles didn't need to explain what he had meant by his statement, Peter knowing full well what he meant. Instead of replying, Peter pulled the teen into his arms- ignoring the protests that were rising. Stiles took comfort in Peter's arms, letting out cries much like before. The two stayed like that for a while, Peter holding onto him while Stiles cried.

\--

The morning arrived too quickly for both of their liking, still needing about a few more hours of sleep to function properly. But Peter had to get to work and Stiles needed to head home to grab a few of this things. He decided morning would be the best time to go considering his dad wasn't home, meaning he wouldn't have to deal with him. The two ended up falling asleep in each other's arms on the floor in the corner of the room last night. When Stiles finally passed out, Peter didn't have the heart to wake him up, knowing the teen needed his sleep. He ended up holding onto him, falling asleep at some point.

"Good morning," Peter chirped as Stiles walked into the kitchen dressed in black skinny jeans and his usual burgundy sweater. 

"Morning," Stiles hummed, taking a seat at the table as Peter placed a cup of steaming hot coffee with two sugars and a splash of milk- just the way Stiles loved it, in front of him. Stiles thanked him, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. He brought the cup up to his lips, taking a small sip. He sighed in satisfaction when the warm liquid entered his body. 

"Are you heading to school?" Peter asked, taking a sip from his coffee. Stiles shook his head, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl that was placed in the center of the table. 

"Why not? You need to go," Peter replied.

"I just can't do it right now. I will eventually go back but yesterday I couldn't handle it. You obviously saw that," Stiles explained, taking a bite out of the apple.

"But you eventually are going to go back, right? I mean you need your education," Peter said.

"Eventually, it's what I said," Stiles said, shrugging. He really couldn't care for school at the moment, his mind being preoccupied with many, _many_ different things. Stiles still had to go back to Derek's loft and empty it out, given he didn't have much family around. He had Peter but Stiles knew Peter was not going to do it. 

"I still need to go back to the loft to empty it out," Stiles mumbled, biting his bottom lip. Peter gently set his cup down, inhaling a sharp breath. He knew this day was be coming, it couldn't keep being ignored. 

"I can help you," Peter replied. The only reason he didn't want to empty the loft out was because then it would be true to him that his nephew was no longer here. A reason Stiles shared as well. The two weren't ready to admit that Derek is actually gone, that he was never coming back. Stiles is still struggling to grasp the fact that his boyfriend was no longer here. That he would never feel his lips against his, his hand held firmly in his, and the heat of their bodies being close. But more importantly, he would never hear the words, _I love you,_ again.

\--

Stiles remembers the day Derek first told him he loves him. It was raining hard outside, the two had just got back from a movie date, completely soaked and laughing their asses off about some comment Stiles had made. Stiles was heading upstairs to grab a pair of dry clothes when Derek uttered the words. Stiles looked at him with the most shocked expression ever seen. He didn't think Derek would be the first to say the words, seeing Derek was new to the whole serious relationship scene. But there he stood, completely soaked, and a nervous grin plastered on his face. He looked innocent and vulnerable, a side Stiles- well anyone rarely saw. Stiles would never forget that look on his face when he said the three words back. The night ended with passionate, hot sex. 

\--

Stiles shook the memory out of his head, even though it was a good one, it didn't help him recover. Stiles knew he wouldn't fully be recovered, there would be times when Stiles will break down, wishing Derek was here and cursing at the world for taking him too soon. But it would get easier to deal with, or at least he hoped it would be. 

"Stiles?" Peter cautiously said, looking at the boy who was deep in thought. Stiles' eyes flashed through several emotions before returning to the guarded expression. 

"Right, um," Stiles cleared his throat, "yeah sure. What time do you get off work?"

"Around three, maybe four," Peter replied. Stiles nodded.

"I'll see you there," the two parted ways, Stiles getting into his blue jeep and Peter into his black Mercedes, an expensive car much like the one Derek use to drive. Stiles tried to his best to keep his attention off of the car, knowing it wold trigger many memories. 

The car reminded him too much of Derek. But then again, everything reminded him too much of Derek. He wasn't ready to go back to the loft, knowing that place would remind him the most of his boyfriend. He would never be ready. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter ! I'm sorry if there are errors here and there. I'm too lazy to edit the chapter but I'll go back and do it later. 
> 
> Thank you for the Kudos ! I hope you enjoyed this chapter !
> 
> All the love, Emmy x


	5. Chapter V.

**V.**

 

Stiles anxiously tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, it being his attempt to push away the anxiety that was building in his chest. When that didn't work, he resorted to gripping the wheel, his knuckles turning into an unhealthy shade of white. He hoped and prayed his father wasn't home, not wanting to deal with his constant worried glances and questions as to why he isn't at school- even though the Sheriff already knew why.

A sigh of relief left the teen's lips when he saw his driveway empty, indicating his dad was on his way to work. He parked his car in the driveway, shutting the engine off before exiting his car. He dragged his feet along the gravel road, slowly heading up the front porch, unlocking his door, and finally walking into his house. He let the door shut behind him and pocketed his keys. He walked upstairs to his room, it still being messy from before. He didn't pay attention to that, he grabbed a duffel bag from underneath his bed, and tugged on the zipper to open it. He stuffed a few shirts, pants, pajamas, and little necessities into the bag. He zipped the bag closed once it was filled with all the things he needed, knowing he could always come back if needed more things.

Without thinking, Stiles walked over to his desk, grabbed the pictures frames that held pictures of him and Derek, and placed them face down. Stiles knew he had to get rid of those and put them somewhere he couldn't see them daily. But he just couldn't. At least not yet.

He couldn't find himself doing loads of things he should do to start the process of getting better, but he could never bring himself to do it. A part of him knew the reason for that was because he wasn't ready and another part of him didn't want to shut Derek out of his life completely. That's how he currently felt when he had to get ready to go through Derek's stuff, sort through things and figure out what should be kept with either him or Peter, donated, and put into storage.

Stiles slung the duffel bag over his should as he walked out his room and back downstairs. He grabbed a pen and paper, scribbling down in messy handwriting to let his dad know that he was okay and that he would be staying at a friend's house until he was ready to deal with everything and go back into a normal routine. He didn't say who, knowing his dad would go over in attempts to try to get Stiles back into his normal routine. But the teen had to do it on his own time. This was something that just couldn't be done over night.

\--

Stiles took the back roads instead of the highway to Derek's loft, knowing it took a lot longer to get there. But without fail, he managed to get there somehow quicker even though he didn't want to. He parked next to the silk black Camaro, it being parked there for weeks. Stiles stared at it, his lips trembling, his hands back to having a death grip on the steering wheel, and tears sat on the rim of his red, torn eyes. A lot of memories came back to mind, the two of them sharing many moments in that car. Including the time when Derek almost ran Stiles over.

\--

Stiles, being the idiotic teen he is, was messing around in the streets. Him and Scott, mostly him, were intoxicated, coming home from a party that one of their close friends was throwing. It was rare the two of them got invited to a party, well it was rare Stiles got invited considering he wasn't see as one of the popular kids. That was more of his best friend. But everyone knew wherever Scott went, Stiles was always two feet behind.

Stiles, being intoxicated, decided to sing Time Of Your Life at the top of his lungs while dancing in the street. Scott stood safely on the sidewalk, laughing as he watched his best friend be the absolute idiot he is.

Derek was driving down the road, oblivious to the teen who was singing in the middle of the road, making it so he nearly hit the boy. Derek would've been angry and yelled at Stiles for being an idiot, but when he saw Stiles being a drunken idiot, his mood changed and he was amused by the moron that he called his boyfriend. Derek drove both of them home, well back to his loft because he knew both Melissa and the Sheriff would've killed their sons. Stiles being a horny teenage tried to feel him up and give him sloppy, drunk kisses the whole drive home. The older man would've enjoyed it and found it amusing if he wasn't driving. And if his boyfriend wasn't drunk.

\--

Stiles shook his head, getting rid of the memory that flashed through his mind. He got out of his car, making sure to lock the doors before heading upstairs to the loft. He stood in front of the rusty medal door. A blank expression was plastered on his face. He felt as if the door was taunting him. He wanted to open the door and be greeted with Derek's familiar face. But he knew that wasn't was he was going to get that. He tried moving but he felt stuck as if his feet were glued to the floor.

Paralyzed would be the word for how he described it. He tried to move again but he couldn't. The weight of going into the loft weighed down on him, causing an intense pain to race through his chest. Stiles started intensely at the closed door, knowing it hadn't been opened for weeks. A few papers scattered on the floor, it being mail and flyers from the landlord or neighbors, who didn't know Derek was gone.

Stiles tensed up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn't need to turn to look to see who it was. He knew it was Peter, him having a weird presence that calmed the teen down a bit.

"We don't have to go in yet, we can wait. Or we can come back another time if you're not ready," Peter quietly said, keeping a firm grip on the teen, but careful enough not to hurt him. Truth be told, Peter didn't want to go in either. But standing here, didn't hurt him as much as it hurt Stiles. Derek and Stiles had been way closer than him and Peter had ever been. The bond Derek and Stiles shared, no one could come close to have what they had. Although Peter and Derek were close, Stiles and Derek were even closer.

"No," Stiles sighed out, "we have to do this. Or else it'll never get done. I'll never be ready for this," he confessed, taking in a sharp breath. His heart was pounding against his chest, his head was spinning making him feel dizzy and nauseous all over again. Peter nodded, stepping in front of Stiles and pulling out a spare key Derek had given him. Stiles and Peter were the only two people Derek had given keys to, he didn't trust anyone else to hold a set of keys to his home.

The door creaked as Peter grabbed the handle, pulling it open. Stiles winced at the sound, it bringing back memories. Stiles hated himself for that. A sound, a stupid sound, brought back memories.

Peter was the first to step into the loft. It took a few minutes, but Stiles finally entered the loft. Every memory ever made in this house resurfaced, making the teen feel slightly even more dizzy. He stumbled backwards a bit, Peter keeping a grip on his arm when he noticed that Stiles looked like he was going to faint any second.

The loft remained the same from the last time they were here. Everything was untouched, a few of the furniture gathered a layer of dust over the weeks. A few dirty dishes sat on the coffee table, piles of movies next to it, and a blanket and pillows were thrown on the floor.

The two remained quiet as they went around the house, starting with the living room. Peter had left for a few minutes, returning with boxes. They labeled each of the boxes with, donate, keep, or storage. Stiles hands trembled as he started putting the movies along with the other items on the TV stand in the box labeled keep. Peter worked in the kitchen, carefully placing the dishes in the box labeled storage. Stiles bit back the tears as he walked over to the book case, it being filled with random books, little knickknacks, and pictures of him and Stiles along with a few others that were with family and friends.

The teen gathered the last picture on the second row of frames, it being a picture of the two of them sleeping. A friend must've taken it. Stiles and Derek were passed out on the couch, Derek's arms wrapped securely around the younger boy while the teen laid his head on the older man's chest. Looking closer, he could see the faint smiles on their faces and their hands intertwined together. The two of them looked peaceful and content in that moment.

An overwhelming amount of emotions took over Stiles' body, not sure what he was feeling. His hands shook uncontrollably as the frame fell out of his hand. A gasp fell through his lips as he bent down to pick up the now broken frame. Doing so, a piece of the broken glass pierced through the skin on Stiles' left arm, causing him to bleed. Stiles didn't flinch at sudden pain, he simply stared at the blood that began pouring out of the open wound. His mind traveled to the dark ends of his brain, him wishing the glass cut just a little bit deeper. He didn't want to die, but at the same time he didn't want to be alive.

Peter watched from the kitchen doorway, knowing he should help the teen. He heard the glass shatter and raced over to the living room but paused in his tracks. Stiles rarely showed emotion since the death of his boyfriend. Whenever someone tried to get him to speak, he brushed them off, saying he was fine or flipped out on them. But everyone could tell he wasn't fine. They remained silent, keeping the comments to themselves, not wanting to anger or upset the teen even more.

In this moment Peter watched the teen slowly start to lose himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter ! I'm really happy with how this chapter turned out. I loved writing it. It needs some edits but as always I'm too lazy. 
> 
> Thank you for the Kudos ! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter !
> 
> All the love, Emmy x


	6. Chapter VI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning towards the end. 
> 
> Self-harming.
> 
> If you're easily triggered, please skip this chapter x

**Vi.**

 

It took a few hours but the whole living room and kitchen was packed up. Peter suggested they do the upper level some other time, knowing Stiles was not mentally stable for that part yet. They had loaded the boxes evenly into their cars, deciding on where to take the boxes that held the things they wanted to keep.

The teen hid his cut with his sweater, not knowing Peter already saw it. The older man didn't ask about it, not wanting to anger Stiles.

"You want to get some lunch?" Peter asked, walking out of the loft, the last box in his arms.

"I guess," Stiles shrugged, getting into his jeep.

"Alright, just follow behind my car," Peter said, getting into his car, and carefully placing the last box in his backseat. The two started up their cars, Peter pulling out first, Stiles right behind him as they got onto the main road. Stiles switched on his radio, tapping his fingers to the soft melody that played out.

 _"My friends have all left me. Away on the breeze. There's a crushing silence where love's a disease. Like a fever it grips me, like a lover it holds. Scared of getting older, scared of dying alone. I'm in a blue haze. A blue haze,"_ the radio played, Stiles mumbling along with the lyrics. He felt himself connecting to the lyrics. He was in a blue haze. A very blue haze.

Peter parked in front of a local diner, Stiles parking beside him. The two got out and made their way into the diner, getting seated in a booth near the window. They scanned their menus quietly, neither of them speaking. A waitress appeared five minutes later with the drinks they ordered- water for the both of them, and took their orders. Peter ordered a cheeseburger and fries, Stiles ordering the same thing. She took their menus and walked off.

"So," Peter said, placing his hands on the table, fiddling with his fingers.

"So," Stiles copied, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. The awkward silence ended ten minutes later, plates of food being set in front of them. Peter hungrily grabbed his burger, taking a few bites out of it. Stiles picked at his food, in no mood to eat. He grabbed a fry, nibbling on it a bit. Peter watched him, now realizing how pale the boy looked.

Stiles shirt was hanging loosely on him, indicating the shirt was way too big for him. He could see the way Stiles' collarbones stood boldly out. The sudden change in his appetite drastically dropped his weight from a healthy number to an unhealthy one. The dark bruises under his eyes stood out, his eyes still red- they remained red as if it were their natural state, and finally the same guarded expression lingered in his eyes. Peter wished he would just open up to him, he knew the boy for years now, knowing this wasn't Stiles at all. Stiles usually shared how he felt- sometimes a bit too much. He was loud, obnoxious, and annoying, that's how Peter is use to seeing him. Not like this, quiet and guarded.

Stiles looked up at him, his brown-hazel eyes staring into Peter's electric blue ones. An emotion flickered in Stiles' eyes before disappearing and being replaced with the same guarded expression as before. It frustrated Peter. He'd wish Stiles would go back to being the open and loud teen he remembers when he first met him.

"You ready to leave?" Peter asked, putting some cash plus a tip into the check book the waiter left, drinking the last few sips of his drink. Stiles nodded, taking a small sip of his drink before pushing out of the booth.

"Do you want to take that with you?" Peter asked, gesturing to the untouched burger and a few fries that remained on his plate. Stiles shook his head, knowing he wasn't going to eat it.

"Okay," was all Peter said. The conversation had been one-sided but he didn't mind it. He also wasn't going to push the teen to eat, afraid he'll upset him even more. But if Stiles didn't change his appetite soon, Peter would not hold back in force feeding him to make sure he stays alive.

\--

Peter and Stiles bid a goodbye and went their separate ways. Peter had to head back to work for a meeting that he couldn't miss. The teen ended up back at the apartment, not having anywhere else to go. Stiles wandered aimlessly around the apartment, trying to find something to do. Yet when he found something, he quickly lost interest in it.

He was exhausted, yet couldn't sleep.

He was starving, yet couldn't eat.

His mind was loud, yet he remained quiet.

He held a vast range of emotions, yet remained with the same guarded expression.

It all drove him crazy, Stiles wishing he could somehow make everything he was feeling go away, and return to his normal self. 

Stiles found himself in the second bathroom that was located on the second level. This bathroom being rarely used due to the first bathroom was the easiest to get to. He stared at himself in the mirror, grimacing at his appearance. His hair sat tangled and untamed on his head, his eyes lacked the light it once held, the bruises under his eyes getting darker, and his skin was paler- if that was even possible.

Stiles tore his gaze away from the mirror, not being able to handle the sickening feeling that began twisting in the pit of his stomach. He started heading out the bathroom when a glimpse of silver caught his eye. He his eyes flickered over to the small object, picking it up. It was a simple blade. He knew he shouldn't do it, knowing it wouldn't really help with what he was feeling. His mind went back to earlier, the piece of glass piercing through his skin.

Without thinking, he slowly lifted the blade up to his upper right arm, dragging it slowly across. He hissed at the newfound pain, dropping the blade out of his hand. He watched the blood seep through the open wound, grabbing a tissue and pressing it against it. Just as predicated, it didn't make him feel any better, only worse, but for a sickening reason he couldn't put his finger one, he wanted to do it again. Stiles kept the tissue pressed against the wound, picking up the blade from his free hand and tucking it into a corner that was out of sight. He kept it there for safe keeping, not sure what was going through his mind.

Once Stiles made sure the blood had stopped, he discarded the tissue, making sure it couldn't be seen. He exited the bathroom and heading into his- well Peter's room, climbing into the bed. He shifted a bit to get comfortable but hissed when he accidentally landed on his right arm. Stiles carefully shifted again, laying on his back with the blankets draped over him. He had to think a of a way to hide the cut, knowing Peter and just about everyone would flip out if they saw it.

His anxiety kicked in when he realized that someone might see his cut. He didn't want to worry anyone more than he already has, more importantly didn't want to burden anyone. He was perfectly content with dealing with everything on his own and not letting anyone in.

Stiles didn't want to think about but he knew as each day passed, his anxiety and depression got worse. He shut his mind off for the night- well at least tried to, as he drifted out of consciousness and into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter ! I don't know where this story is going but I'm liking the way it's turning out so far and i hope you are too ! 
> 
> Thank you for the Kudos ! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter !
> 
> All the love, Emmy x


End file.
